


What a Terrorific Mess

by whataterrorificmess



Series: Terror: Drabble Collections / Prompt and Kinkmeme Fills [2]
Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Francis will always be Terrors Dad, Gen, I clearly abuse the characters too much, Is it obvious I love hurt/comfort, Jopson being his lovely selfless self most the time, M/M, No like seriously I swear all my work bleeds this shit, Thomas Blanky pulling pranks, What Ifs, characters not minding their own business half the time, this is a lot of Jopson whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-07-08 10:02:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19867771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whataterrorificmess/pseuds/whataterrorificmess
Summary: A collection of Terror drabbles, shorts, and short stories.Chapter 1: Sick Bed (Crozier and Jopson) *Hints at Joplittle*Chapter 2: The Great Tobacco Relay Race! (General) Ft. Neptune the Dog!Chapter 3: Rifle Strike - (Crozier, Little and Jopson) *Hints at Joplittle*Chapter 4: Cauterize - (Jopson/General)Full index will be in authors note





	1. Sick Bed

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 1: Sick Bed (Crozier and Jopson) *Hints at Joplittle*  
> Chapter 2: The Great Tobacco Relay Race! (General) Ft. Neptune the Dog!  
> Chapter 3: Rifle Strike - (Crozier Little and Jopson) *Hints at Joplittle*  
> Chapter 4: Cauterize - (General but Jopson centric)  
> Chapter 5: Just Ask (Jopson)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A scene from the show I felt impulsed to add onto. 
> 
> Hints at Little x Jopson.

_’I’m going to get through this. The captain will get us all through this.’_

That was the thought that still kept him going after all this time. 

Here in this bare wasteland of frost and ice, this land that was littered with the corpses of so many of their friends, he was still trying to keep heart as he knew Captain Crozier would want him to. 

Still, his mind drifted to those who had been lost to them so far… or the ones he could remember at this point. 

Sir John the man who had led them during the start. All they found of him was his right leg.

Dr McDonald, Terror’s Assistant Surgeon who died during the tragedy that had been Fitzjames’s Carnivale.

Lieutenant John Irving. A pointless death that threw everything into complete chaos. They buried him in a grave of rocks.

Commander- no Captain James Fitzjames. He had succumbed to scurvy shortly before he himself had gotten sick. 

Mr Blanky the… wait… what was it he did again? He couldn’t remember now but recalled vaguely Crozier telling him to go stare at the ice once and give him a report… okay so Mr Blanky the ice starer. He’d gone off in a different direction than the men. All the captain offered was that his leg had become infected and he wanted to give them a chance against that _thing_ on the ice.

Despite all that they had lost he still held faith in their captain. He knew the man would get them through this trial as he had so many others. The absolute chaos upon Erebus with the loss of Sir John, fighting off that monster time and time again, fighting his own battles with the drink, the disaster of Carnivale, abandoning the ships, staring at the face of a mutiny… the entire time he kept a cool head about himself. 

An attitude worthy of a captain that he was so proud to not only serve, but call his friend. 

They would get through this. 

He would live to see London again. He would see his sisters and his little brother Robert, of that he was absolutely certain, even now as he lay shivering violently in one of the two sick tents that had been set up for their ill. 

When one of the tent flaps opened and his captain entered holding a basin of water he was about to get out of bed when the man spoke to him. 

“At ease Jopson. At ease.” he hushed him softly grabbing a stool as he approached the bed. 

He knew he looked horrible. For Christ's sake he was supposed to be a gentleman servant… or he was… he supposed he was promoted recently. Either way it was not befitting and he tried to tuck his greasy locks behind his ear, wetting his horribly chapped lips with his tongue as he did so. 

“Is there something I can do for you Sir?” he asked quickly, propping himself up on his elbows as best he could. 

As if he could do anything right now. He could feel his joints grinding against each other with even the slightest movement. 

“You can lie there, not feeling well… while I try to cheer you up… by telling you the story of the time anyone ever let me ride a cow.” he replied, grunting as he sat down on the stool he had set beside his bed. 

He grinned in amusement. 

“I know that story ends with you head first in a compost heap.” 

The captain dipped a cloth into the basin and wrung out the excess water. 

“ Well, would you like to hear it or not.”

It had been so deadly silent and he never got to see the captain these days with him being sick. 

How could he say no?

Another stupid grin fell upon his face. 

“Yeah.”

The captain started to drag the cloth down his cheeks. 

“The cow in question it belonged to a neighbor.”

Jopson chuckled softly, “Foley.”

There had been so many other stories the man had told him regarding this neighbor too.

“Yes, Collin Foley.”

As the captain continued his tale he suddenly became extremely self-aware almost as if a switch had been turned on.

Why would the captain be here, of all places? He was likely needed elsewhere.

He glanced at the entrance to the tent when he heard John Bridgens and Tom Hartnell talking outside in hushed voices.

”William Sinclair has passed, Mr Bridgens.”

“Thank you Tom. I appreciate the assistance.”

Mr Sinclair’s scurvy had progressed considerably within a matter of days, whereas he had been suffering for weeks. 

If he had been sick this long… what hope did he have for survival?

For the first time on this entire expedition he felt as if nothing mattered anymore. 

His eyes drifted to focus on the captain again as he washed his dirty face with such gentle care. 

The man he’d served for nearly a decade now. Followed to the Antarctic to the Arctic. From one end of the world to the other. 

It was here, that he realized the inevitable truth.

_’I’m dying...’_

“He used to kick that cow when he wanted it to move. It never wanted to move. She just stood in the grass meadow all day long. Which is why us children thought she’d be a safe one to climb up.”

Tears welled up quickly in his sore eyes and slowly trickled down the side of his face towards his ear. 

Crozier just smiled at him warmly continuing his story as he wrung the cloth so he could gently wipe his tears away. 

“So the first trick was getting on top of the thing-”

Everything was becoming too real for him and his breath hitched in his throat.

“S-Sir.” 

The captain stopped his story to look at him sympathetically. 

“Yes, Lieutenant?” he offered him a small smile. 

More tears trickled down his face, he couldn’t stop them his body was too exhausted to listen to him anymore. 

“I don’t want to die, Sir.” he whined pitifully trying to choke back his sobs.

Crozier shook his head at him, dipping the cloth back into the basin once more.

“Aye, I don’t want that either lad.” 

Thomas wanted to laugh and he did not even know why.

None of it had any humor whatsoever but for some reason he just found this whole thing so damn hilarious. 

They came here looking for a Northwest Passage and found instead, two frozen ships, a monster, and ice stained with blood and corpses.

As he looked over at the man he could see his too long black hair whip against the pillow from the rapid head movement. 

His hair that he once kept short and neatly combed like the gentleman he was to be, used to be so soft and shiny with a color of the finest ink.

Now it had turned into long greasy coal colored tendrils nearly at neck length, much of it was snarled and coated with dirt and grime.

For some reason the sight caused the tears to flow heavier from his eyes and he choked on a sharp hiccup.

He had never considered himself a vain person, but he did like to look his best and right now, he knew, he looked his worst.

“Jopson, what is it lad?” 

“I-I want to have clean hair Captain!” he wailed tearfully. 

Crozier ran the cloth underneath his eyes again and Jopson could see the older man’s eyes blinking back tears with such control, something he had lost at this point.

_’I’m dying...’_

He was ashamed, he felt like a petulant child not getting his way and that was probably how it looked. 

Whether it did or did not, their captain didn’t show him any judgment. 

“I know lad. I know.” 

The sympathy voiced with his words made the flood gates open and before he could help himself he had a breakdown right there in the tent.

“I-I want to return home with a clean shave and clean hair to see my sisters and Bobby! We… we have been here so long that he’s probably a young man now.” 

The captain just nodded, “I am sure he is Thomas. A fine young man indeed just like his brother.” 

He sobbed helplessly unable to will himself to calm. His chest rose and fell each time with a sharp rattle from his lungs.

“I want to start a life with Edward. I… I don’t care about no blasted papers anymore! I love him… and… I wanted to see him become a Captain himself”

Their relationship hadn’t exactly been much of a secret out here on the ice. Much like the relationship between Harry Peglar and John Bridgens had not been when the younger man collapsed on the ice while hauling. 

“Aye, I agree lad. Lieutenant Little would make a fine captain.”

“I want to see you knighted, Sir. God knows you’ve done more than Sir John Franklin has to deserve it at this point.” 

The captain laughed a roaring belly laugh that shook the man’s core and made him clutch his sides.

At such a reaction, Jopson found himself smiling as well his dimples faintly showing through his dark facial hair. He started to giggle despite the immense pain that jolted through his bones and joints. 

After several seconds the captain was able to compose himself picking up the rag again to wipe his neck free of the dirt and debris, smiling warmly down at him. 

“You sound like Mr Blanky lad.” 

Jopson’s facial expression fell once more the silent tears returning as he stared at the older man with sad, pained eyes. 

_’I am dying.’_

“I want all this to be a dream… I-I want to live.” 

Crozier rest a hand heavily on his head, stroking his hair affectionately. 

“I know lad.” 

“Sir, if I pass… I want you to be right here beside me.”

Blue eyes twinkled with a glow of pure serenity as the man nodded at him.

“There is no other place I would rather be Thomas Jopson, to that I give you my word.” 

It wasn’t to be.


	2. The Great Tobacco Relay Race!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr Blanky decides to pull a not so nice prank on Lieutenant Little early in the morning, and Francis is most amused.

It was early morning and the rest of the crew hadn’t been awakened yet. He found it to be one of the many days he would wake up early and not be able to fall back to sleep.

With that being said he decided he’d go up and have a smoke before the day was to officially start.

“Francis.” Mr Blanky’s gruff voice reached his ears as he stepped on board deck. 

“Thomas. Up for an early morning smoke I see?”

The younger man shook his head. “Nay. I found something more entertaining.” 

The captain lifted an eyebrow curiously. 

He didn’t like the tone in his friend’s voice.

It sounded… almost as if he was plotting something…

It was at this moment that Francis could hear faint calls from the ice and Thomas’s smirk widened to a sly grin.

“Neptune! Bring that back!” 

Was that Lieutenant Irving?

Indeed he saw two men running frantically on the ice after the large hound who was carrying something in his mouth.

The dog ducked under a pressure ridge that had weathered away at the bottom and shot out the other side. 

Thomas was laughing hysterically clutching his sides as the two men scrambled around the ridge in order to continue their chase.

“Why do I have a feeling you had something to do with this Thomas?” 

The other man clapped him on the shoulder using his weight to help support himself as he continued to laugh.

“I rubbed some of the grease from Mr Diggle’s stove on Edward’s tobacco pouch.

Francis looked at him in horror. “Thomas you didn’t.”

A seaman’s tobacco was something most prized. One of the few things during ship life that was sacred.

This was just bordering on the lines of cruel but yet the prank was something so like his friend to do.

His friend just nodded wiping tears of mirth from his eyes before they could freeze.

Francis couldn’t stop the grin that broke out on his own face. “Thomas, you are a wicked man.”

Thomas just laughed, “I know.” 

“Sir, is everything alright?” came the concerned voice of Jopson as he came from below deck dressed in his slops.

“Aye Jopson, just an early morning smoke is all.” 

The younger man heard the shouts and came to stand by the gunwal beside them. He squinted at the two men chasing Neptune. 

“Is that Lieutenant Little and Lieutenant Irving, Sir?” 

“Indeed.” the captain chuckled. 

“You beast! Get back here before I make a coat out of you!!” Edward’s voice shouted angrily at the large Newfoundland who continued to zig zag the men through icy obstacles.

“Francis, your dog is actually not as dumb as he looks.” Mr Blanky chuckled taking a second to have a puff on his pipe. 

“He’s not all for show Thomas.” 

“I honestly didn’t know he could move so fast...” Jopson commented, eyes scanning the ice as the dog made distance between the two men.

“Aye, he moves when he wants to it seems.” 

One particular structure of ice had both men trying to go in different directions to flank the canine only for John to lose his footing and slip on the ice.

He flew straight into Edward who tried to skid to a stop but instead collided straight into the younger lieutenant. 

Both men were now a tangle of heavily layered limbs trying to scramble back to their feet. 

The captain and Mr Blanky were roaring with uncontrollable laughter tears running down their faces as they clung to the side of the ship with their heavy woolen mittens. 

Jopson found himself trying not to laugh but it was no use he found himself reduced to a fit of giggles.

“Dammit John!” Edward cried angrily finally getting loose of the other man’s legs. 

He clawed his way back to his feet and jumped at the dog who found a nice icy pillar and stopped to look at him wondering which way he was going to go.

Every time Edward would move one way the dog would move the other, clearly taunting him. 

“Would you like me to call him Sir?” Jopson asked softly. 

“In a moment Jopson. Let us savor this for a while longer, hm?” 

“Of course, Sir.” 

“You infernal thing!” the lieutenant roared lunging to the left around the pillar only for Neptune to go the other way and sprint, running over Lieutenant Irving who was still trying to get back to his feet, four large feet planting square in the man’s back knocking him back to the ground before jumping off and continuing to run.

“Ah!” John cried in surprise and a bit of pain. The dog was no easy weight he was massive.

“J-Jopson.” the captain managed to wheeze out between his cackles. 

The steward turned to attention and nodded when the captain waved him in the direction of the scene. 

“Yes Sir.” he replied to the wordless command.

He brought a hand to his mouth and let out a sharp shrill whistle. 

Neptune skidded to a halt on the looking up in the direction of the ship. His tail starting to wag happily.

“Grab him John!” Edward shouted. 

The younger lieutenant lunged at the dog who had decided at that precise moment to bolt toward the ship in a dead sprint, Edward’s tobacco case still in mouth.

John let out a pitiful cry as he landed face first in a pile of snow. 

Mr Blanky’s roaring laughter bellowed again and Francis watched as the man fell to the deck clutching his sides. 

As Neptune returned to the ship he skid to a stop in front of Jopson who held out his hand. 

“Give it here.” the lad said sternly. 

The dog dropped the tobacco pouch in a puddle of drool into the steward’s palm. 

“Good boy!” his steward praised the dog, patting him affectionately on the head.

By the time the two lieutenant’s made the small trek back up the ramp the sun was starting to rise.


	3. Rifle Strike

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A drabble I thought of in the aftermath of Terror Camp Clear. 
> 
> Insinuated Joplittle ahoy!

“Watch out.” Tozer grinned at him.

_‘Watch out?’_

Edward didn’t have time to ponder as a sharp, searing pain exploded in the back of his skull and everything went black.

**~ X X X ~**

As Francis continued walking along the destruction of their camp he couldn’t help his thoughts from wandering.

How much of a coincidence it was that the _creature_ appeared right when they were about to execute Mr Hickey and Sergeant Tozer.

Was it a coincidence?

All his lieutenants were still unaccounted for among the dead and the living.

Jopson, he hoped the lad was alright and that he hadn’t pushed the man into a position he couldn’t handle.

Edward… he hoped the man wasn’t among the poor souls that had been taken from them. The man was trying his best to hold everything together just like everyone else. 

As he made his way through some of the tents he heard a voice conversing softly. 

“Sir, is he…?”

Jopson?

Quickening his pace he rounded the corner and his blood ran cold when he found both Lieutenant Jopson and Captain Fitzjames crouched over a still body.

“His head is bleeding.” James murmured softly. 

James took off a mitten and let two finger tips prod at the man’s neck after lifting his chin slightly. 

Francis felt his heart drop into the pit of his stomach as he stared at the face of Lieutenant Little, his eyes were closed and his facial expression lifeless.

The younger captain continued to adjust his fingers for a few moments closing his eyes as if to concentrate until finally he let out a sigh of relief. 

When he lifted his head their gazes met as he finally spotted his presence. 

Offering a small reassuring nod in his direction he spoke, “He’s alive, just unconscious.” 

Francis approached the trio and knelt beside Jopson clapping a firm hand upon the lad’s shoulder in a silent _‘I’m glad to see you alive’_ , to which the younger man smiled weakly and nodded his head in acknowledgement. “Captain.” 

James was still inspecting Edward’s head with delicate hands but it was obvious he was a bit uncomfortable dealing with the man’s unconscious person. 

“Here James, we have this. Go find Lieutenant Le Vescante and ask for a report.” 

Fitzjames just nodded and rose to his feet a small grunt emitting from him as his sore joints whined in protest. 

The two of them watched him leave before turning their attention back to their unconscious crew member.

Jopson sat silently observing how Captain Crozier used such delicate care to part Edward’s thick mane of dark brown hair in search for a wound. 

He really hoped it was nothing serious, he didn't know what he'd do if the older lieutenant were to be lost.

“Did anyone find Doctor Goodsir?” he asked softly wanting to break the uneasy silence.

The captain shook his head with a grim expression, continuing to search for his lieutenant's source of injury and Edward let out a pained groan. 

“I know Edward, I know. Be still lad.” the captain hushed.

Thomas couldn’t help the small smile that formed upon his face, it was moments like this that he knew without a doubt that they couldn’t have asked for a better captain.

Captain Crozier cared about all the men under his command, good heavens life on Terror hadn’t felt like a job most of the time, more like a home. The were a family in their own way.

“Here it is.” 

The captain’s words snapped him from his warm thoughts.

He had parted some of his hair to reveal a large welt that was trickling a steady stream of red.

Thomas found himself leaning to take a closer look and was unable to prevent the grimace when he finally caught sight of what the captain had uncovered. 

“Just a rifle hit, it looks worse than it really is Jopson.” 

His brow furrowed in confusion, “Sir, if I may, how can you tell?” 

Crozier replied with a dry laugh, “I’ve seen far too many lumps on men’s heads from rifle butts than I would rather admit Thomas.” 

He nodded idly and the older man took hold of Edward’s right arm.

“Help me get him up Lieutenant.” he ordered calmly. 

Shouldering his rifle, Jopson grabbed Little’s other arm and the two of them hoisted the unconscious man up between the two of them. 

Edward groaned softly and wiggled pitifully as if to resist the hold they had on him.

“Easy Lieutenant, it’s us.” Crozier assured the man. 

Brown eyes that looked black from blown pupils fluttered open staring blankly in an unfocused daze.

“Cap’n….” the man croaked the word slurred heavily as it rolled off his tongue. 

“Aye Edward, and Lieutenant Jopson.” 

Thomas struggled to keep hold of the older lieutenant’s arm when Edward tried to find his footing only succeeding in planting his heels into the rocks in his uncoordinated state. 

“W-Where’s John…?” Edward mumbled softly. 

Captain Crozier caught Jopson’s distressed gaze at Edward’s mention of Lieutenant Irving and shook his head ever so slightly. 

“He’s fine lad, just disoriented.” He assured Jopson.

Swallowing thickly Thomas nodded as they continued to move their wounded lieutenant to the sick tent. 

“M.. not… d-dis..orienfated… Cap’n… ” 

Crozier looked at the man like he’d lost his damn mind and Jopson couldn’t help the giggle that rose up from him. 

His giggle seemed to spark something in the captain because he grinned playfully before addressing Edward again.

“Well, I would certainly hope not Edward Little. Not in the face of your captain, how could you suggest such a thing lad?”

“Yessir… sorry sir… I-I tumble with Jopson sir...” 

A scandalized squeak came from the former steward and his face turned bright red at the statement. 

Francis narrowed his eyes at Thomas a smirk playing on the corner of his mouth.

“Oh I see… do I need to have you boys lashed?” he asked playfully. 

Whether or not he actually believed the man Thomas couldn’t tell. 

_’Dammit Edward!’_

He was not going to let the older man live this down, even if he didn’t remember this later. 

“O-O’course sir… I'll fetch Mr Johnson...” 

“What you two do in your spare time is none of my business Edward, stop embarrassing Thomas.” 

“Yessir..."

Captain Crozier let his eyes meet Jopson’s pale terrified stare and gave a silent nod of reassurance and Thomas let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

The captain didn’t seem to care. Thank god. 

Still he was going to let Edward have it when he was well enough.

“Where we goin’ sir..?” 

“Sick bay.” 

“But… that’s on the ship sir...” 

Thomas’s eye twitched in annoyance. 

“Edward Little be quiet.” he snapped ignoring the groan his raised voice had earned him.


	4. Cauterize (Jopson/General)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During the Tuunbaq's attack at the executions, Jopson gets mauled but he manages to get out with his life. 
> 
> AKA: Another Terror Camp Clear, what if. 
> 
> Featuring: Thomas Jopson, Henry Le Vesconte, James Fitzjames, Francis Crozier, Thomas Blanky, John Bridgens, Tom Hartnell and a cameo from an unconscious Edward Little!

The chaos had started like an explosion. They had been just about to hang Mr Hickey when the creature had shown its face. Men had scrambled, Collins was laughing, rocks were flying, but what he had noticed the most was how Lieutenant Little had froze. He had watched their captain bodily tackle the man to the ground when the creature had charged with drooling snapping jaws, the large maw missing Crozier’s back by mere centimeters. Finally able to move again, snapped out of his shock, Edward had tried to scramble to his feet so quickly that his hands had lost purchase on the shale several times before he clambered to his feet, running after their captain who headed straight for the armoury. 

Bullets had started soaring through the air from the marines, lieutenants – (himself included), and any man who had a firearm really. Men were screaming, some in cries of pain but most in terror as the fled from the monster. 

“Hartnell, Mr Blanky, with me!”

He was a steward! Not a lieutenant! A lieutenant was supposed to help keep order, to enforce, to lead when need be and that was not something he had always been the best at. Still, he had to try. Fishing more rounds of ammunition from his coat pocket he started loading his shotgun. 

He turned to Hartnell cocking his shotgun he pointed an arm in the direction of the boats. 

“Get every man you can under the boats. It’s the only cover we have.”

Mr Blanky was limping along grabbing ammunition to load his rifle. 

“Mr Blanky, get to cover.” 

The older man scoffed loading the firearm as he made his pace beside him. “Neptune’s balls! I’m coming with you.”

All of it had happened so fast the monster was throwing tents left and right, men snatched up in its gaping maw, at one point Mr Blanky and he had gotten separated, when exactly he didn’t know. He was too busy ducking behind tents and trying to make crack shots at the thing to notice. 

Everything was so deafeningly loud and chaotic that it practically silenced the creature’s heavy footfalls and he’d rounded a corner and come face to face with it. That was how he ended up here, frozen in awe, unable to believe the sheer size of the creature as it stood several yards away feasting over the body of a seaman. It had to be at least twelve feet tall on all fours! 

It was here he realized that behind the creature even more yards away he saw Captain Fitzjames messing with something… were… were those rockets?

The creature lifted it’s massive head from the body it had been devouring. It looked right at him, its black eyes staring intensely and he barely had time to raise his shotgun before it charged. The creature closed in fast, and he’d managed but one shot before it was close enough that he was trying to book it in the opposite direction. 

It happened so fast, first a bright flare of red lit up the area above and he heard the fierce hiss of a rocket, only seconds before a large, heavy, muscled arm collided with his side painfully and a searing pain quickly followed. The blow had flung him through the air and into the side of one of the tents which collapsed from the force at which he hit it.

He was left reeling in an intense agony and he felt tears gathering in his eyes from the intensity of the pain he was in. It was so intense that he didn’t even acknowledge the succession of blast of fire, a roar of pain and the wave of intense heat that he self-consciously turned his head away from. 

Loud footsteps ran off and if he hadn’t been in such pain he probably would have heard Fitzjames swearing up a storm and yelling orders at Lieutenant Le Vesconte. He let his head lay back against the collapsed canvas as his it swam heavily through a wave of vertigo. 

Black spots were clouding his vision but he could vaguely make out Lieutenant Le Vesconte’s face hovering over him, his hand resting against his left cheek, and his mouth was moving as if he were speaking to him but he couldn’t make out what he was saying. He couldn’t hear anything over the sound of his own blood pumping through his ears. 

**~ X X X ~**

“God damn, blazing god damn fucking Christ!” James yelled in his wrathful rage. He had just watched that thing fling Lieutenant Jopson like a rag doll into one of the supply tents and he had not seen the man get up but he’d heard him let out a startled cry not even three seconds after he’d landed. 

Out of the corner of his eye he made out Le Vesconte leading a small group of armed men directing them to the left in search of the creature. He still had one more rocket but he couldn’t leave the wounded lieutenant there if he was still alive. 

“Henry! Get over here!” he yelled in full captain’s voice. 

The man had to search for a moment but he was spotted quickly and started to hurry over to him. “Sir, the men need dire-” 

Henry was cut off when Jopson let out another cry. This one a shrill scream that James recognized, from his own experience, was that of a man wounded badly. 

“I will lead them! I need you to tend to Lieutenant Jopson, get him into cover! Find Goodsir if you can!” he ordered grabbing the stand, the rocket, and running past Henry without another word in the direction of the waiting men.

He had watched James go before moving swiftly to the collapsed tent where Jopson’s broken body lay on and the sight that beheld him was truly grisly and utterly horrifying. 

The younger man lay there howling in pain between tightly clenched teeth, his eyes were watering as fully blown pupils roved desperately, his body writhed and twitched with overwhelming pain. Henry could clearly see why. It was hard to ignore the four large claw marks that had torn clean through all his layers, and more importantly deep into the flesh on his side across his rib cage, blood was quickly soaking through his clothing and the canvas where he lay. He was honestly surprised the young man was still conscious. 

Hastily he dropped the gun at his side, and proceeded to yank off his own great coat dropping it to the ground as he allowed himself to fall to his knees next to the young lieutenant. He placed a hand against his left cheek tapping slightly. 

“Jopson, Jopson can you hear me?” he asked urgently. 

Dark colored eyes just stared up at him helplessly… he could have sworn he’d remembered the man having eyes light in color. He felt the man’s hand squeezing tightly at his wrist belonging to the hand against his face, and Le Vesconte knew it was the man trying to find anything to relieve some of the pain. 

He patted the young man on the shoulder and with a bit of effort pulled his hand free of the iron grip, he grabbed his great coat and used it to put pressure against the ever flowing blood that pulsated copiously from his side. The contact had made the young man scream loudly to the point it actually made his voice crackle and his body instinctively writhed away from his touch.

“I know, I know I’m sorry!” he gushed placing one hand up against the other side of the man’s flank in attempts to prevent him from moving away again while he applied pressure to his injuries. 

Jopson’s face was losing a lot of color and he swallowed anxiously as he held the man’s abdomen tightly with both hands as he squirmed, hissed, and even more surprising to Henry shouted profanities at him. 

He couldn’t recall ever hearing a single ungentlemanly word coming from the polite well mannered former steward… so when an angry _‘You blasted fucking bastard! That hurts!’_ was shot in his direction it was understandable that it shocked him greatly. 

Ignoring the man’s pain induced cries and raving he continued to hold onto the man’s wiggling body and looked up to find James sprinting towards him with dire urgency, he dropped to his knees beside them and he couldn’t help but look at the man like he’d lost his fucking mind. 

“You’re supposed to be with the men!” he yelled unable to hold his tone, James shot him a glare and he shrank back slightly. 

“Dundy, you idiot! It’s gone already didn’t you hear the men cheering as it ran off?” 

He blinked, and it suddenly occurred to him that everything had gone considerably quiet around them. No more gunshots, not as much screaming, no roars from that abomination that hunted them. 

“No.. I-” 

“Oh shit!” a startled voice sounded and the two looked up to see Thomas Hartnell standing there gaping in horror. 

Fitzjames moved to sit on his haunches beside Le Vesconte, helping the man to put pressure on the lieutenant’s injuries. 

He shot the stunned Hartnell a piercing glare.

“Don’t just sit there with your mouth open! Good god man! This man needs attention immediately! Send word to Mr Bridgens or Dr Goodsir or both I don’t care! Then go get the captain!” he roared loudly fury evident in his normally calm voice.

Hartnell didn’t need to be told twice and he was scurrying off as fast as his legs could carry him. 

James looked down at the newly promoted lieutenant who had stopped his wiggling and instead lay there now quite tame, but his body still twitched every now in then with a spasm of pain. He noticed how the young man was focusing on the clouds above, with heavy exhaustion lidded eyes. 

“Captain…?” he rasped his voice hoarse. 

He nodded, “That’s right Lieutenant, he’s being sent for. Calm deep breaths.”

“Captain...” the young man repeated softly staring up aimlessly. 

James swallowed nervously this didn’t look good at all. 

_‘Dammit Francis, you better get over here quickly.’_ he thought bitterly. 

“Jesus buggering Christ!” came the voice of the man in question. 

James looked over his shoulder to see Francis and Mr Blanky struggling to support an unconscious Edward Little towards the direction of the sick tents.. well if they were still standing that is. Lieutenant Jopson must have heard his voice too because he started squirming against their hands again. Now whimpering softly as he tried to lift his head to look for the man. 

“Settle Mr Jopson.” James ordered it in a fashion as one might do when giving the final word to an officer questioning a captain’s command, and it seemed to register because he obeyed instantly stilling all movements and lying back down. 

Le Vesconte got up, moving to take the captain’s side so he could talk with Fitzjames while he and Mr Blanky took Terror’s first lieutenant to the makeshift sick bay. Captain Crozier eased out from underneath Edward’s arm to hurry over to where his third lieutenant lay staring blankly as he continued to bleed steadily against the fabric that was an attempt to quell the blood flow.

“Captain.. are you hurt?” Jopson’s voice asked ever so quietly. 

Francis looked down at the man dumbfounded before a sharp look crossed his face. 

_‘ Leave it to Thomas Jopson to be concerned for my well-being while he is fucking bleeding to death.’_

“Jopson, be quiet. That’s an order.” 

“I-I… yes Sir...” the man muttered glumly. 

“I’m here Sirs, I got here as fast I could. Mr Hartnell already briefed me on the trouble.” Bridgens urgent voice announced as he suddenly appeared, they had been so focused on Jopson that they hadn’t seen the man running towards them one of the small spirit stoves and a knife in hand. 

Crozier felt his heart drop into his stomach, he had a feeling he knew what was coming next. 

**~ X X X ~**

He was right of course, and it was by far one of the most unpleasant things he had found himself having to do in his life. 

The good news was that Bridgens believed if they could close them quick enough as in, immediately, the young lieutenant should be fine with rest if the wounds could be kept from getting infected and a fever battled off. No ribs had been broken, but he did think they had been badly bruised. 

They had moved the young lieutenant quickly into the closest (standing) nearby tent for some privacy, where they’d stripped the young man’s top half of any and all articles of clothing, he’d been able to see the extent of the injuries with his own eyes when they’d unveiled the lad’s abdomen. 

Realizing he’d never seen his young steward in any state of undress besides a missing cravat occasionally, he couldn’t help his curiosity from letting his eyes roam. 

Jopson was not as hairy as most men he’d seen bare-chested. In fact his skin was as fair as that on his handsome young face, a broad shouldered chest coated with a faint sheen of sweat was decorated lightly, almost modestly, by coarse dark tufts of hair residing in the centre of his breast before disappearing and reappearing again a few inches above his belly button where it trailed down in a mild thicket below his waistband. 

His lieutenant was a shining example of a man still early into his youth and Crozier couldn't help but feel very, very old all the sudden. 

Shaking his head momentarily he scowled when he met Fitzjames knowing smirk and he scanned his steward’s body to assess the wounds. 

Bridgens was most definitely right, to the true extent, he deeply hoped. Along with the four large havoc raking claw marks on the lad’s side, he could see dark ugly shades of skin that surrounded the lacerations. It was almost as if it was just one massive bruise, it started at the top of Jopson’s rib cage and ravaged pale skin into dark all the way down his side and even going as far as to disappear beneath the dark blood soaked fabric of the top of his trousers as well.

“Bloody fucking Christ Jopson.” he heard Mr Blanky curse as he continued to keep his hands on one of his legs. Jopson turned tired anxious eyes to stare at the ice master questioningly. 

Francis heard Thomas continue, “We’re our own war veterans you and me. I demand we get a god damned bloody medal for this fucking inconvenience!”

To his surprise Jopson managed to breath out a weak chuckle as a grin lit up his face, “D-Double pay... at least…”

That was all Francis needed to see to shoot his old friend a grateful nod. It was true, it seemed that both Thomas and Jopson were the only men so far who had survived a physical attack from the monster. God knew he still felt awful about Thomas’s amputated leg. 

“Indeed, and I will personally see to it that the two of you gentlemen receive both!” Fitzjames stated and with a tone of humor but also an underlying crass seriousness. 

Hopefully Bridgens had enough medical background to be able to tell if the lad’s ribs were truly not broken, he knew the old man had experience with medical history but that was far from that of a licensed doctor. Though he had his doubts, he would put his trust in James’s judgment. 

They were waiting on Mr Bridgens as he finished heating up a knife and Francis could tell that Jopson was trying to steel himself as he lay there, his back flush against the blanket atop the shale where they held him tightly. He eyed the heated blade with high anxiety as Mr Bridgens turned the spirit stove off. 

“I want to do these one at a time, Sir. If it would be possible to keep applying pressure to the other wounds while we do this, it would be ideal.” 

Francis was honestly worried about how this was going to go. He knew, because he was there when it happened, that the only injury Jopson had ever received that required medical attention in order to close, was evidenced on his lower leg from the accident several years ago. That wound itself had been closed through, not cauterization. 

He let go of his lieutenant momentarily, grabbing Jopson’s coat off the ground and fishing into his pocket for a handkerchief that he knew the man had. 

“Left… left pocket Sir.” the young man advised, already understanding his intentions. 

Switching to the other pocket he fished the handkerchief out and scrunched it up, he ran his fingers through Jopson’s hair for a second before giving him a pat on the shoulder. 

“Alright lad, let’s get this done with.” he said softly, to which Jopson nodded and let him insert the fabric between his teeth. 

“Are you ready, Mr Jopson?” Bridgens asked, wanting to give the man a warning that he was to start. 

Jopson nodded and turned his head to the other side not wanting to watch the process and with that Bridgens placed a hand against his side to hold him steady and lowered the blade. 

The captain noted how the hair on the younger man’s arms stood up as soon as he felt the intense the blade was giving off before it touched him. 

All four of them winced at the guttural noise that emitted from the man, and for a brief second Francis could have sworn James was going to faint but he righted himself. He knew James was already suffering the early stages of scurvy and he remembered how Dr McDonald had claimed that he’d heard of men ridden with scurvy falling over dead from the sound of a gunshot. The sound must have been awful for the man’s sensitive ears. 

Lucky for James though it didn’t take long for the noises to stop because the young lieutenant had passed out half-way through the first wound being cauterized. It seemed for the first time God sent them a mercy, because it was no secret that he hadn’t been doing so for quite some time. 

The lad was out too, he didn’t wake up for the rest of it and he continued to sleep half-way into the night. When he was awoken by a now conscious Lieutenant Little, it was still very late and the beautiful green of the aurora borealis still hovered prominently in the sky. 

Captain Crozier knew this time despite the amount of people who had been killed in the attack, he personally believed that they had gotten lucky.


	5. Just Ask (Jopson)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jopson is hopefully saved at the last moment?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again I am using the Labrador dictionary 
> 
> DO NOT HATE ME IF I AM WRONG IN TRANSLATIONS ;_; my self confidence is low enough as it is. 
> 
> Translations
> 
> Omaggâlittuk. - (It is barely alive)  
> SuggâlâtlanaKona. - (Don't treat him roughly.)   
> Suvâ? - (What does he say?)  
> Kallunâtut uKâlajuk. - (He is speaking English.)  
> Ikajunga - (Help me)

When Jopson came to, it was because he heard voices. 

“ _Omaggâlittuk._ ”

He didn’t understand what was happening. What… where was the captain? 

Oh. 

That’s right.. they had left him… they… they had left him here to die… like an animal…

Shale crunching next to him made him open his eyes, and he could see a shadow cast over him, but he was too weak to lift is head. His teeth were chattering so hard they were hurting unbearably. 

“ _SuggâlâtlanaKona._ ” came a voice further away. 

He heard the shadow above him snort in irritation before the feeling of a fur clad hand made rest upon his shoulder and another reached beneath his head, lifting it carefully. 

It was a native… or a small group of natives.

Jopson wanted to weep. Oh god please, please let them help him. 

“H-He… Help.. me...” his voice came broken and so small it just made him want to cry even more. 

The group looked back and forth between one another until finally a younger man spoke, “ _Suvâ?_ ” 

When the other Esquimaux beside him shook his head, “ _Kallunâtut uKâlajuk._ ”

Jopson blinked he didn’t understand what was happening he just.. he didn’t want to be left alone again… 

The Captain…. 

The Captain? 

That’s right… a few days before they had abandoned ships, Crozier had sat him down and tried to teach him a little bit of the Netsilik tongue.. at least words that would be important, like necessities, how to ask for food, water, and aid… 

Aid? 

Ah! Shit… what… what were they? He tried to get his brain to remember but everything was so muddled and he… he couldn’t remember! He needed to remember! Why couldn’t he!? 

It… it started with an I! Um.. Ika something… 

Tears of frustration gathering in his eyes he choked back a sob, he had to try something… anything…

“Ika…jon..ga…?” 

He stared with pleading eyes as the man who held his chin lifted an eyebrow, in questioning. 

“Ikajunga?” 

Yes! Yes! That was it! That was the word!

Nodding, tears streamed from his eyes and he… he found himself at least grateful that the captain had taught him even the slightest of words… maybe they would help him. 

“I-Ikajunga… please… I-I want... t-to.. to... live..." 

As soon as the injured man had spoke he went still and his head lay limp in his hand, he carefully lowered it back down. 

The man looked uncertain as he looked around at the abandoned tents, they had already searched them and found but dead men. 

Glancing over his shoulder at his two companions who looked equally as unsettled but nodded after a shared look.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again I am using the labrador dictionary 
> 
> DO NOT HATE ME IF I AM WRONG IN TRANSLATIONS ;_; my self confidence is low enough as it is. 
> 
> Translations
> 
> Omaggâlittuk. - (It is barely alive)  
> SuggâlâtlanaKona. - (Don't treat him roughly.)   
> Suvâ? - (What does he say?)  
> Kallunâtut uKâlajuk. - (He is speaking English.)  
> Ikajunga - (Help me)


End file.
